When America’s sweetheart… Brea Richards is America’s sweetheart. Dubbed Miss Congeniality by the media, Brea has spent years honing her current reputation. And being one of the leading stars of a prime time television show…priceless. It’s a long way from her humble beginnings, but that’s her secret to keep. Or at least that’s what she believes until she gets the phone call.

Meets America’s bad boy… Lance Holder is America’s bad boy, the guy they love to hate. He lives life the way he wants, and makes no apologies, regardless of what anyone thinks. All everyone sees is the tattooed, motorcycle riding, reckless movie star, preventing anyone from looking beneath the surface. And that’s just fine with Lance. Until his new gig puts him right in the path of Brea.

Will either one escape unscathed? Lance is the newbie on Brea’s show, and everyone is watching to see if America’s bad boy will influence Miss Congeniality. They don’t know Brea’s worst influences happened long before Lance entered the picture. And Lance seems to be one of the only ones to see beyond her current façade. Maybe America’s bad boy is just what America’s sweetheart needs…

Brea quickly grabbed a glass of champagne from the bartender, desperately wishing it were a shot of Patron, turning to lean back against the bar and search for her producer, Garrett. He was nowhere to be found, but sure enough, the bane of her existence was striding toward her with purpose. Could a girl not catch a break? Downing the champagne in one unladylike gulp, she put her glass on the bar and waited for the showdown. It was bound to be a good one, if the first two were any indication. For once, she wasn’t going to shy away from him, figuring she needed to nip his arrogance in the bud now.

“Hey, darling.” Lance smirked at her, knowing he irritated her and doing it anyway. She smiled mockingly.

“Look who it is: Hollywood legend and actor extraordinaire.” She leaned closer, her lips a hair’s breadth away from his. She knew exactly what she was doing and knew she had him when those green eyes grew hazy with what was to come.

“Edgy, sexy as fuck, and just rough enough around the edges to seduce random girls in the back.” She moved, kissing his cheek softly before whispering in his ear, “Too bad you won’t ever get that shit from me.” She felt him tense at her words, but he kept quiet. She pulled back, laying her lips lightly on his before she leaned back to gauge his reaction. His eyes narrowed, realizing he played right into her hand, and he moved before she could guess what he was doing.

She found herself pinned between his arms against the bar, her body pressed against his tightly. She could feel his erection against her center, making her want to rub up and down his body. She didn’t have to move; he did it for her, holding her hostage with his piercing glaze. He rubbed once, twice, making her squirm in an unconscious bid to get closer. What started as her plan to put him on notice had backfired.

“You feel that?” He pressed his erection into her hips, pressing tiny kisses to her jaw. She bit her lip to resist the moan of pleasure. She was captivated and could do nothing except nod her agreement.

“Good. I want you to feel me, and know this—” he rocked against her again “—is all for you. I’m not like your other guys. I’m not nice, and it won’t be pretty. But you’ll beg.” He bit her ear lobe softly. She was burning up and about ten seconds away from hopping on the bar and spreading her legs for him before he jerked away from her. Brea stumbled from the loss of contact, embarrassed by her reaction to him, staring into green eyes flashing in anger.

“Listen, Brea, this ain’t a game. You want me? That’s fine. Jealous because you think I took some girl in the back room? I didn’t, by the way, when all I’ve seen for the past three days is you, but I got no problem with that either. But if you want to be a cocktease in the middle of a cocktail party? You better be prepared to follow through with what you’re promising.”

“I’m not like that,” she argued, irritated he continued to ignore what she said. Again.

“You’re not like what? Because the only two times we have really interacted you have been like that. So, who are you? America’s sweetheart or harlot?”

About The Author

Marie Garner hails from North Carolina, and has had her nose in a book for as long as she can remember. Story ideas have been floating around in her head for as long as she can remember when she finally decided to write them down. She is an avid football fan, often found rooting on her Washington Redskins or her alma mater NC State. She has taught for the past 7 years, with a short break to earn her Masters degree. She loves London, having lived there for a year, and loves taking all those crazy ideas to make stories you enjoy!